Supernatural FanFlashwork Collection
by Charity Angel
Summary: A collection of the stories I have written for the Fan Flashworks community on LJ/DW. There may well be various characters/pairings along the way.
1. Music

_Written for Challenge #96 - Music. Takes place some time in Season 4._

_A/N: I was playing with POV for this one for a badge. I've been told it's a little confusing at first, but stick with._

* * *

**Music**

I think it's the music that confuses him the most. The human myths of Heaven being filled with the songs of the angels aren't as far-fetched as you might imagine: Enochian is a harsh language when spoken through human vocal cords, but in its truest form it is extremely lyrical; even beautiful. My sons have been surrounded by the songs of their brothers from the moment of their creation. Only Michael and Lucifer remember what true silence is, and he is one of my youngest sons. He has heard music all his existence, even though he does not sing much himself.

But the music of the humans is nothing like that of Heaven. Angelic songs are either of love or war: for my sons, there is no other way of life, no other experiences. Humans sing of hope, of sex, of loss, of sorrow or even, recently, of hate. Their melodies are as unique as their creators. I enjoy the music of humans, because it tells me how much they have grown beyond what I created. The music of my sons saddens me now, because it has not changed. They know nothing of hope; what they know of sorrow and loss is confined to the knowledge that Lucifer is contained, kept apart from them.

Only two of my boys have learned to think for themselves. Gabriel regrets it every day, and masks his pain by playing elaborate tricks on the humans he deems to require re-education. And Castiel? Castiel is struggling, still learning what free will is, but he will learn because he is determined, and he has two excellent teachers. And, perhaps, one day, he might cease to be confused by the music Dean plays for him.


	2. Taste Test (Gabriel & Castiel)

_Written for Challenge #97 - Sweet &amp; Sour (Gen, Castiel &amp; Gabriel)_

* * *

**Taste Test**

Gabriel was almost impressed, if he was honest. How Castiel was able to scowl at him through a blindfold he wasn't sure, but his little brother was managing it just fine.

"It tastes of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen."

Impressed went out the window. "No, no, no!" To take the sting out of his exasperated tone, Gabriel stroked Castiel's cheek gently. It wasn't his fault; it really wasn't. "You're concentrating too much. Or not enough, maybe: one or the other. Just… let your vessel do the work for you. Food is awesome, but you need to stop tasting all of it. Just… try relaxing."

"That is easier said than done," Castiel said, his voice dry. "Perhaps you would prefer to be the one being force-fed unknown substances whilst being deprived of the majority of your senses?"

Gabriel stared at him for a moment. This definitely was _not_ the same meek little kid he remembered from home. How had the Winchesters done this to him so quickly?

"Are you sassing an archangel, Castiel?"

There was a barely perceptible twitch of Castiel's forehead. Gabriel suspected he was raising his eyebrows.

"No," the kid said carefully, "I am 'sassing' a pagan trickster god."

Gabriel couldn't help himself – he laughed; something pure and joyous that he had not truly felt for a long time. And it had taken no effort on his part at all, only a little brother who had grown some balls over the last few thousand years.

"You can hardly blame me for being wary," Castiel continued once Gabriel quietened. "I recall your penchant for pulling wings."

"Oh, Cassie," Gabriel breathed, regaining control of his vessel and regarding his brother with unexpected tenderness. "Not you. Never you."

"Not after Sodom," Castiel agreed, his voice distant, pained by the memory.

Gabriel took his hand and pressed a kiss to Castiel's forehead gently. "No, not after that. You were too broken by it. I'm so sorry: I should never have taken you."

Castiel reached out and echoed Gabriel's earlier, tender action, running soft fingers over Gabriel's cheek. "I believe I understand why you did," he said. "You were not at fault. Now, I believe we were in the middle of an experiment?"

Gabriel slid the blindfold from Castiel's eyes, unbinding the senses that had been muted by the embroidered sigils on it. As Castiel blinked, Gabriel folded himself into Castiel's lap and hugged his brother tightly.

"Forget the experiment," he said, burying his head in Castiel's neck. "It was vinegar anyway; it would have been a nasty shock if you'd actually tasted it properly. I should never have taken you to Sodom, Cassie: I knew you were too sensitive. I nearly ruined humanity for you."

Castiel, once his initial surprise wore off, reciprocated, pulling Gabriel tightly to his chest. "But you did not," he said softly. "My love for them has not waned, and I have grown since then. Neither of us is the same as we were when we left Heaven."

There was a pause, a silence in which Gabriel wondered how his baby brother had ended up so much wiser than him; than any of their brothers. The seraphs had been right; Castiel had always been a bit different as angels went, but Gabriel had never thought of him as 'wrong' like they did: the kid was like him, that's all, but a far better, far more selfless creature than Gabriel would ever be.

"We are both here, now, because of the same reason we were chosen to go there then," Castiel said gently. "We see the best humanity has to offer, and wish to protect it."

"Hmm."

Damn, the kid was perceptive: that was _exactly_ the reason Gabriel had chosen Castiel. Had there been a single person worth saving in that city, Castiel would have found and rescued them. He had tried so, so hard to find the ten pure souls they needed to save the rest, and had wept bitterly when they had returned to Heaven. And now look at him: sitting here and comforting Gabriel over something they had done millennia ago.

"I forgave you long ago, brother," Castiel said, pulling on Gabriel's shoulders so that they could look each other in the eye. "Perhaps you should do the same, and forgive yourself."

The intensity in those blue eyes was hard to ignore, and Gabriel found himself compelled to nod in compliance as if he were the lower ranked of the two of them. "I'll try, brother," he said, finding his voice shakier than he would like. "In the meantime…" He picked up a square of chocolate from the selection of things he had been planning to feed to Castiel. "… try this."

Obediently, Castiel took the chocolate in his mouth and closed his eyes in concentration. "It… _OH_!"


	3. Self-Perpetuating Investments (Gabriel)

_Written for Challenge #97 - Sweet &amp; Sour. Takes place sometime after 5x09 The Real Ghostbusters. (Gen, Gabriel)_

* * *

**Self-Perpetuating Investments**

Surfing tumblr, Gabriel had to admit that, whilst this wasn't what he had expected when he invested in the prophet's works of 'fiction', it was so, so much better. He couldn't have asked for a better prank, to be honest: it was simple and completely self-perpetuating. Fangirls and Fangays were awesome; a force to be reckoned with.

The only thing that would make this more awesome would be to see the sour looks on the Winchesters' faces when they read the stories - Sassy and Destiel would cause shit-fits. Sweet, sweet victory.


	4. Ghosts of the Past (Bobby)

_Written for Challenge #98: Haunted. Takes place during 7x17 The Born-Again Identity._

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**Ghosts of the Past**

It wasn't a word that Bobby liked to use in this context, because of the other, more literal definition, but his boys were haunted by their past. Sam was falling apart right in front of him and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. They were reaching a point where there wasn't even anything Dean could do to keep Sam's sanity intact – Lucifer was winning that fight even from his prison cell, and Sam had stopped trying to sleep days ago.

As for Dean, he was still hiding the effects of his trip to the basement, sure, but that kid had seen a horror that Sam would never know about: he had seen their mother on the ceiling. That had taken _years_ for Bobby to get out of the kid, and even then only with the promise he would never tell John or Sam. He had taken that secret to the grave, and had no intention of giving it up now.

But neither of those things were what was bothering Dean the most now. For now, even with Sam locked up, there was something else – some_one_ else – on Dean's mind. Castiel had wormed his way so innocently and efficiently under Dean's skin that Bobby knew he still had nightmares about the day Cas had died; nightmares that Dean would deny brought him to tears, but Bobby knew otherwise.

And so he helped the only way he could, gave Dean the clue he needed to find the faith healer Emmanuel. It cost him days of awareness, but he figured it was worth it. Until he popped back into being and saw the damn angel being shut in Sam's room. Cas, plagued by his poor decisions (admittedly, Cas had made some _really_ crappy choices recently), had decided that he deserved this. And there was another image to haunt Dean's nightmares: Castiel, sitting placidly and completely unaware in a padded cell, a target for angels, demons and Leviathan alike. Helpless, just like Bobby; so helpless he couldn't even see the ghost in their midst, watching over his three boys.


	5. Making the Most (Destiel with a twist)

_Written for challenge #107, 'Burn'. Destiel-ish._

* * *

Dean knew what Sam thought: Sam thought he was an idiot, either completely oblivious about Cas or repressing so hard he barely even realised the chemistry between them. Especially after the whole 'subtext' conversation with Marie.

Dean would have to be dead not to have noticed the thing with Cas. He hadn't believed in soulmates before Cas. He did now. But it was just like the rest of Dean's shitty luck that his soulmate was a fucking angel.

Because no matter how far or how many times Castiel fell, he was still and always would be an angel: an awesome creature so full of purity and holiness that he burned. And Dean burned every time they were together. Castiel's entire being was lethal to him. If he was lucky, he would only lose his eyes if he ever saw Cas as he really was.

Dean couldn't be with Castiel. Not while he was still alive, anyway, and he was pretty sure his ticket upstairs had gotten revoked when he pissed Raphael off. Or Metatron.

But that didn't stop him from wanting. They couldn't be _together_, but they could enjoy what little time they had, while they still had the chance.


	6. Drunken Truths (Dean & Gabriel)

_Written for challenge #108: Fast Forward_

* * *

Dean was watching Castiel like a hawk as they kicked back in a bar, and he was being really damn obvious about it. More specifically, he was watching each and every one of Gabriel's special concoctions that Cas was downing.

The bar had been Dean's idea in the first place – a kind of celebration-commiseration kind of thing: they had beaten Famine, Sam had come out the other side of his blood withdrawal with Gabriel's help, but Castiel was getting weaker, and his search for God wasn't getting anywhere. Cas was getting disheartened, and Dean had decided that going out to a bar would be just the thing to loosen them all up a bit. Gabriel had been down with the plan, and made one teeny tiny little adjustment to the alcohol levels in Cas' drinks (and his own, naturally). He was even a very responsible big brother and told Castiel exactly what he had done, so that they could all get drunk together rather than the angels having to drink the bar dry to even start to feel the effects. Gabriel felt that might have looked a bit suspicious to the other fine but very human patrons.

And Dean had been watching Castiel like a hawk ever since the first round appeared. Or like Cas, the watcher, watched him.

"Deano, come and get the next round with me. Jäeger?"

Sam groaned and glared at Gabriel. Cas nodded solemnly and turned to Dean expectantly. Dean, for his part, gave Gabriel a sharp look but got to his feet without any verbal complaint, following the archangel to the bar, where Gabriel proceeded to place a frankly staggering order and handed over a hundred dollar bill without a thought before turning to Dean.

"So, what's bugging you about Cassie?"

Dean frowned.

"Oh, come on! You were so obvious. You're worried about something, and you're going to tell me what it is before I have to dig it out of that pretty head because if I don't know, I can't protect my brother. And I will not be put in that position ever again."

Dean gave him an appraising look, surprised realisation dawning on his face. "You actually care."

Gabriel shrugged, but before he could say anything, the whole story came blurting out; Zachariah kidnapping him from his hotel room and throwing him five years into the future, in a world where Sam had given in to Lucifer, where Michael and the rest of Heaven had abandoned Earth and humanity, and Castiel was mortal and had taken refuge in drugs and alcohol.

"And have you told Cas about this?" Gabriel asked with a frown.

Dean shrugged. "Didn't want to worry him," he admitted. "He's already hung up on losing his mojo and I thought it would just make things worse."

Gabriel grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Zach is a dickbag," he said cheerfully. "He was trying to rattle you, and Cassie and Sam are your weaknesses. We can't actually travel that far into the future, you know."

Dean, already thoroughly rattled by Gabriel's apparent ease with the whole situation, stared.

"_WHAT?!"_

"Pretty sure Cas would have told you that if you'd mentioned it to him," Gabriel went on. "A little bit of near-future foresight here and there isn't that tricky, but time travelling to the future? Especially that far? Not even us archangels can pull that shit off. You'd think that after all the crap I've pulled on you, you'd recognise a little false reality."

"So…"

"So you're worrying over nothing, and my little brother has a particularly sick sense of humour. Must have been modelled on me and Luci. Probably why I never liked the little shit."

Dean gave a faint snort of laughter and grabbed the shot glass closest to him, downing it without even looking at the contents. "You got that right. What the hell was that?"

"Cinnamon Aftershock."

"Tastes like ass. Don't order it again. So Cas is okay?"

Gabriel looked over to where Sam and Cas were still sat. Both were deep in discussion, but Sam's eyes were flickering their way pretty often.

"He's probably not going to completely drown himself in booze tonight," he assured Dean, "but I promise I'll cut back on tweaking the drinks."

"Thanks." Dean gave him a smile that radiated relief and grabbed the nearest tray. Gabriel stayed a little longer, watching him return to the table and his smile change into something much more relaxed and unguarded as he sat back down opposite Castiel. Damn, but they were so obvious, and Gabriel was going to have to get them together before he shoved his blade through his own heart just to escape the sexual tension.

Sam caught his eye and gave him a look that clearly said 'rescue me'. Gabriel plastered his best grin on and grabbed the second tray of drinks.

But was Castiel okay? No, he wasn't: if Cas kept going the way he was, he would be mortal within a few short months. He was already trapped inside his otherwise empty vessel and stripped of his ability to hear their brothers' song. Gabriel was quite frankly impressed that he hadn't gone nuts from loneliness by now, and Dean probably had more to do with that than he would ever realise. That would be another great reason to get the two lovebirds together. Plus, if they were screwing, it would mean that Sam would have a motel room to himself and that would give Gabriel a chance to gently persuade Sam to maybe give him his birthday present early1.

* * *

1 said birthday present being a Sam to unwrap and play with (reference to Peace Offerings)


	7. The Human Way (Cas & Dean - Endverse)

_A/N: Written for challenge #112: Stripes._

* * *

Cas frowned at the gun Dean had pushed into his hand. It was cold and heavy and impersonal and it felt all wrong.

"Will my blade not suffice?"

The blade was a part of him, crafted by his grace and carried across the millennia and each vessel he had possessed, each war he had fought. It had been with him since he was young. It was the only weapon he had ever used.

Dean's hand collided with his shoulder, a gesture that between humans meant friendship. But to Cas it was harsh, difficult to distinguish from the sensations of sparring or even fighting. He assumed that was down to the fact that he could feel at all. It was disturbing, knowing how low his grace was getting; so low that his vessel was insinuating itself more and more into his perception. His nerves worked, distracting him from the mission. His vision was narrowing to what Jimmy's eyes could tell him and little more; his hearing was already completely human. And he was having to re-learn how to fight with human muscles.

"Cas, man, your knife skills are awesome, but you can't rely on your blade when it comes to Croats."

Dean's words were easy, curling around him and warming him in a way that they never used to. The hand on his shoulder was now a comforting weight, reminding him that no matter what his brothers thought, he wasn't alone. Dean would always be with him, guiding him through this new life, through the pain and humiliation of becoming human.

"I am not having you getting chowed on by damn zombies, Cas," Dean said. "So you're learning to shoot."

"I dislike firearms, Dean," he said, inspecting the gun carefully. "They… lack elegance."

Dean laughed, his eyes crinkling around the edges and twinkling. "They're not meant to be 'elegant'," he said with a smile. "They're meant to keep you safe. And you can't throw like you used to."

That was true, irritatingly enough: as his grace waned, his strength did too. He could still throw a blade better than anyone else in the camp, but nowhere near as well as he used to be able to. The truly infuriating thing was that he knew Dean was right: if he was to continue to accompany Dean into the field, he needed to be prepared. He needed to be able to protect Dean from any Croats that might ambush them. And that meant being able to dispatch them from a distance. Which logically meant that he now needed to be able to shoot them.

So he would persevere with the gun. He would learn to shoot the hateful symbol of humanity's desire to annihilate itself. He would learn how to do everything the human way, earn his stripes in the field. He would do it for Dean.


	8. A Hunting Tail

_A/N: Written for challenge #112: Stripes. In which Sam has a run-in with a witch._

* * *

"It's not funny."

Sam had his arms folded, bitchface firmly fixed. Dean wished he could stop sneezing, so he could laugh as much as he wanted to.

"Yeah," he choked out. "Yeah, it is."

"Dean, this is serious."

"Sure." He tried to sober up, but Sam was making his eyes stream anyway so he figured he might as well just laugh.

Sam's whiskers twitched in irritation, his ears flicking. "Dammit, Dean, you realised she's incapacitated us both, right?"

Dean choked on his laughter, remembering that there was a serious aspect to this.

"Fine." He paused to sneeze. "I'll call Cas," Sneeze. "get him to take over." Sneeze.

.oOo.

The good thing about taking a witchy job in Phillipsburg, KS was that Cas was less than an hour away. They had left him at the bunker, hitting the books while Dean got his head back into the game again. Dean was sitting outside, getting some air, when the gold Continental slid into view. Cas was frowning before he even got out, taking in Dean's slightly unusual visage.

"Hey, man. You brought the Benadryl, right?"

Cas held a plastic bag out warily. Dean snatched it and rooted out the sweet, precious drugs within, necking two of the pills dry.

"Dean, you appear to be suffering some kind of extreme immune reaction," Cas observed. His head was tilted at that weird angle, but his eyes were gentle, concerned even.

"It's an allergy, Cas," Dean rasped, waving a hand. "These will help."

The frown deepened. "I doubt you requested my assistance simply for this."

Dean grinned and hoped he didn't look as terrifying as he felt between the swollen lips and the hives. "Nah. Go in, see Sam. He'll fill you in."

As Cas opened the door, Dean added: "Make him show you his tail."


	9. Tuxedo (Destiel fluff)

_Written for challenge #109: Fancy; posted during the 19th amnesty (challenge #117)._

* * *

No job was worth a tux. Dean had lived by that policy all his life. But the vengeful spirit at the theatre only appeared when the opera was on, and Sam turned into a complete whiny little bitch about it.

Cas looked fucking amazing in a tux: the rented suit fit him well, emphasising that sleek runner's build and his slim hips. And his eyes just lit up when he heard the music. Sometimes Dean forgot that Cas had grown up listening to music, for countless thousands of years, until it was ripped away from him by a single choice. A choice he made for the sake of humanity. For Dean. And, of course, Cas could speak Italian as easily as English, so he probably saw some beauty in the lyrics that was completely beyond Dean.

Cas being around for normal things was awesome enough. But seeing Cas so happy, so carefree for even just a few minutes, was worth even the indignity of being forced into a tux, and being leered at by cougars (which made Cas' eyes flash with jealous possessiveness).

And afterwards, Dean got to slowly peel the tux from Cas, all kisses and nibbles and sighs.


	10. A Single Fan Girl (Marie)

_Written for challenge #4: Stages; posted for the 19th amnesty (challenge #117)._

* * *

Marie had laughed when the FBI agents had claimed to be the real Sam and Dean, because it was ridiculous. Sam and Dean were fictitious. They were characters from books, born from the imagination of Chuck Shurley, a.k.a. Carver Edlund.

Weren't they?

Chuck had been right about the supernatural being real. And the more Marie watched the two men work, the less she was convinced that they were lying about who they really were.

But that would mean that the outlandish stories 'Dean' had told her about what happened after _'Swan Song'_ were true. And they couldn't be: nothing could really be that absurd in real life. It just couldn't.

Just like eighteen-year-olds didn't have Greek goddesses stalking them, feeding from the energy of their creativity.

It nagged at her for a while, the feeling that the meta aspect of the books might well have been right all along, but it was during A Single Man Tear that it finally hit her like a ton of bricks, that they had been telling the truth; that Dean freaking Winchester was fighting for her life right there on the stage as she sang about how much of himself he hid; how much he and his brother admired each other but would never say it aloud.

Had they even read the Gospels properly? Because if they were the real brothers, then the books were really Gospels, and Chuck Shurley really was a prophet. Then God and the angels were really real too. Lucifer was real, and Michael, and the apocalypse had really happened and Gabriel was really dead. God, was Adam really still trapped in the Cage? Sam clearly wasn't, since he was somewhere around the school, so the ending of Swan Song was right about that, but what about their brother? He wasn't with them. Oh, God, was Carry On Wayward Son going to be too much for them? Had they been able to save him too? Or had whoever pulled Sam out also rescued Adam and returned him to Heaven where he belonged?

The scarecrow exploded into purple goo.

Dean was triumphant and lost at the same time. He had seemed pretty bewildered since he had arrived, now she thought about it, and that was probably because he was watching a bunch of teenage girls make pretty songs out of his incredibly difficult life. She was suddenly struck, as she never really had been when reading the books, that he and Sam were just ordinary guys doing an extraordinary job for zero recognition. They hated the books, both because they were a breach of their privacy and drew attention to who and what they were. Fans could piece together the clues had they had the inclination. In fact, Marie knew there were quite a few fans who had toured the States to find places the brothers had visited, and discovered that there had been some spooky goings-on in the town. She had always assumed that Chuck had used the stories as his inspiration.

She fished the Samulet out of her pocket and studied it closely. She had always been a Sam girl, but had never actually disliked Dean until the moment he threw the amulet away in _'99 Problems'_. Now, looking at him, she was struck by the sudden revelation of why he had done it. It wasn't anything to do with Sam at all – it was a symbol of hope, and Dean had lost it. Just like Cas had at the end of _'Dark Side of the Moon'_. And maybe, just maybe, having the amulet around was a symbol that Cas' dad didn't care after all. Marie was pretty sure that if she knew her dad didn't care about her, she wouldn't want to keep any reminders of him around either. Had Dean chucked it for Cas' sake?

Somehow, as she thought back to his visceral reaction to Siobhan and Kristen's relationship, she thought that might well be it. In fact, she was certain that Destiel was a real thing too, which she was glad about. Sam might well have been her favourite of the brothers, but she was a Destiel shipper rather than anything involving Sam.

She thought about them long after they left, having saved her and all her friends, and wondered whether Jimmy Novak was as good-looking in real life as Sam and Dean were. Because that couldn't possibly be true too, could it? With his sharp, deeply blue eyes and messy dark hair? And while it was obvious that Dean and Cas weren't together just yet, the possibility was definitely there. And my God, they would be a gorgeous couple.

Marie could feel the new stories tumbling in her head already, clamouring to get out. If only she could have some peace to write them down before they disappeared, evaporated into frustrating nothingness. But there was the clear-up still to do, and the man from the publishers – _from the freaking _**_publishers_**_ – to meet…_


	11. The Guardian Angel Owner's Guide

_Written for Challenge #5: Five Things; posted for the 19th amnesty (challenge #117)._

* * *

Congrats. You are now the proud possessor of a guardian angel. By looking after your angel, you can be certain that he will protect you from any harm that might befall you.

**1\. Treat your angel with respect.**  
Your guardian angel is a powerful being. He can cast you into the pits of Hell itself if he chooses to do so. Make sure you do not incur his wrath.

**2\. Take the time to explain cultural references.**  
Remember that while your angel might speak English (and every other language under the sun) perfectly, he has not grown up absorbing your culture. He has not seen Star Wars six times. He may become frustrated quickly if you try to communicate ideas in a way that he has no context for understanding.

**3\. If your angel strays, pray to him to guide him back to you.**  
Angels do not understand technology: it baffles us. Do not try to give your angel a cell phone. Prayers work just as well, don't cost you any minutes and most importantly, they don't wind your angel up. Guardian angels like getting prayers from their charges: it makes them feel special and wanted.

**4\. Do not try to peak beneath your angel's vessel.**  
Your guardian angel wears his vessel for a reason: to protect you. Do not use mystical forces to try and look beyond his vessel: your eyes will not thank you for it.

**5\. Do not let your angel fall in love with you.**  
Angels are made to love, but not in the same way that humans are. If your angel begins to exhibit signs of undue affection, he may begin to question his orders from Heaven. Should this occur, your angel may Fall from grace. This will lead to malfunctions in your angel, or a permanent, immediate cessation of function.


	12. Family Don't End With Blood (Cas & Bobby

_Written for challenge #89: Family and posted during the 19th amnesty._

* * *

Dean had once told him that family wasn't all about blood. To Castiel, that had seemed immediately obvious, since he had no blood to be related to his Father and brothers by. But that was too literal an interpretation, he knew. And he did know what Dean meant: the true meaning of Dean's words had worked their way into his being without him truly realising it. There was no moment of epic realisation, just the slow integration of it into his mind.

Sam and Dean might be Winchesters in name – and it was a name they were proud of – but they were Singers at heart. Bobby Singer had done more to raise them than John Winchester, and he was still looking out for them, still raising them right and scolding them when they did something stupid. Bobby Singer was not a blood relation, but he was their family, their father.

It was the first time that Bobby turned his scowl on Castiel that he realised that he was a Singer too: Bobby had done more to raise Castiel than his own Father ever had. Admittedly, given that Castiel had never met his own Father, that wasn't entirely difficult, but even so, it was a peculiar realisation. Even stranger was the understanding that this being, so much smaller and younger than him, was giving him a Look that screamed disapproval and disappointment, and it made Castiel want to cower in a corner. He felt tiny under that Look. It made him look away and duck his head in shame.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," he said, his voice soft and gentle.

The Look softened into something forgiving, something nurturing and perhaps a little proud.

"I know, son. Don't do it again. You scared the crap out of us."

"I won't," Castiel vowed.

Bobby nodded and turned away to head back to his study. As he went, he gave a soft snort: "Yeah right. I'll believe that when I see it. I swear: those boys'll be the death of me. Heart attack, I'd put money on it."

.oOo.

Of course, it hadn't been a heart attack in the end, but even dead Bobby's soul had still been able to give Cas that Look that made him feel like a fledgling and spill everything. It was strange, but even years after his death, Castiel still considered Bobby to be his father, and still wanted to make him proud more than he wanted to protect Bobby from the truth. He still wanted Bobby's approval: he wanted the time to sit down and tell Bobby every good thing he had done so that he could earn that look of pride that sustained him even now, in his darkest days.

Dean was absolutely right: family didn't end with blood, and it didn't necessarily start there either. It was much more complex than genetics, or even simply being the same species. Gabriel had found himself a family among the pagan gods. Castiel's family was human, and he still needed them.


	13. Principles & Principals (Wayward Dghtrs)

_Written for challenge #119: Punch. This may get separated out from the Supernatural fics eventually, if Wayward Daughters gets its own show._

* * *

Jody Mills was getting heartily sick of the principal's office: she was spending more time there now than she did when she had been at school herself, and she hadn't exactly been a model student.

"So, which one is it this time?" she asked Kayley, the principal's PA.

Kayley winced and gave her a rueful smile which made Jody suspect the worst. And it was the worst she found when she entered. Alex _and_ Claire were sat in front of the principal.

"So," she said to the backs of their heads, arms folded, "who threw the first punch this time?"

The girls both stared forwards, neither even attempting to turn to meet her eyes. The principal, however, did: "Evan Turner, so my staff tell me."

Jody rolled her eyes. A boy, again. And one of the football team, if she wasn't mistaken.

"I'll talk to them. Girls?"

Jody didn't need to look behind her as she strode out, past Kayley's desk and out to the car park: she knew her girls were following her. And, to their credit, they waited until they were in the car before they drew breath to speak. She headed them off with a look over her shoulder.

"Ice cream?"

Glances went back and forth across the back seat; suspicious, as if they were trying to work out where the catch was.

"Sure?" Alex ventured eventually.

Jody let them stew all the way to the ice cream parlour, and throughout placing their orders.

"Did he deserve it?"

"Yeah," Claire said with the beginnings of a smile. "Yeah, he did."

"And did you end it?"

They nodded in unison.

"Good."

Jody finally allowed herself to smile as the three of them tucked into their sundaes. Her girls weren't perfect, but Claire's arrival had given Alex a new sense of purpose and the two of them were working hard, training as hunters so they could start to take on what they knew was in the world once they had finished school. And in the meantime, they were extending the long arm of justice into the school's halls, sticking up for each other and other kids, ending fights where they found them and handing the bullies their asses. They reminded her of another pair of siblings they were all acquainted with, and just as Bobby had been proud of his boys, Jody was proud of her slightly wayward daughters.


	14. Midnight Snack (Destiel)

_Written for challenge #120: Midnight. Set sometime in Season 8, while Cas is on the lam._

* * *

Dean jolted awake at a thump coming from somewhere in the Bunker. A glance at his clock told him it was midnight exactly: the time things were supposed to go bump in the night. A traditionalist, huh?

With a sigh he grabbed his favourite Colt from under his pillow and slipped out of his room, heading towards the weird noises. It wasn't Sam, he knew, because Sam was over in Sioux Falls helping Jody out with something. Dean had just grinned – the sheriff was cute and who was he to say that she was off the table just because she had been Bobby's girl? Wouldn't be the first time, for either of them. But Sam got all flustered when it came to girls; it was kind of adorable.

Dean wasn't entirely down with this whole home alone thing – sure, he was okay with Sammy vamoosing for a hook-up, just like Dad used to, just like Dean used, come to that, but being alone at night reminded him of the days where he had wondered where Dad was, why wasn't he answering his cell? And, further back, the nights where Sammy was still too young to pick up on anything and would fall asleep the instant Dean put him to bed, leaving Dean to sit alone and worry about where Dad was.

And this intruder wasn't fucking helping. The bunker was supposed to be impenetrable, wasn't it? It was warded to shit so that even angels couldn't get in without their say so. That… that left some human douchebag that had blundered in, which seemed even less likely, if Dean was honest with himself: the mystical keys it took for them to get into the bunker made that virtually impossible.

The noises were coming from the kitchen; whatever or whoever was invading his home was clattering about in there. And, as he got closer, a delicious smell hit him. That didn't seem right at all: a ghost making burgers?

He peeked around the door, and found himself looking at the back of a familiar tan trenchcoat, a dark head bowed, looking at something on the counter. He sighed in relief and tucked the gun into the back of his jeans.

"Cas!"

Cas turned, surprise turning into affection; a little softening around the eyes, that little smile that was only ever directed at Dean. The one he secretly loved to see. Cas didn't emote all that much, but it thrilled Dean that he could bring it out of the angel, that Cas still stuck around, still wanted to be by his side after all they had been through, all Dean had put him through. After Lucifer's crypt…

"Hello Dean."

Dean pulled him into a hug, and had to quickly make it manly and gruff. He had revealed too much down in that crypt, begging for his life, for Cas' sanity. He couldn't go there again.

"What are you doing here, man? I thought you had the God squad on your tail?"

Cas gave him another little smile. "Your bunker is safe, for a short time. I would not wish for them to find me here, but I wished to be certain you were safe."

"Are you? Safe?"

Cas gave him a wry look and handed him a plate from the counter. On it sat a burger and fries, which smelled divine.

"Not as such," Cas admitted, his voice gentle. "Naomi's forces pursue me relentlessly. But, for now, I have a sufficient lead that I can take a little time. I… I like what you have done with the wards here."

Dean smiled. He had done the angel-proofing himself; had needed a lot of research to leave the door open for one specific angel, keying the wards to allow Cas to come and go as he pleased.

"Good to know I did it right."

He picked up the other plate and sat at the table opposite Dean. He had the same meal, but Dean knew that if Cas ate at all, it would only be the burger – he couldn't stand the flavours of anything else. The extra fries were for him.

"I am extremely grateful that you did," Cas said. "I would have been sorry to miss this opportunity."

Dean grinned at him. "Yeah, me too."

They ate in silence, Cas savouring the burger like it was his last meal. Dean shoved that thought aside quickly, since it possibly was. They had barely finished when Cas stood abruptly, his gaze far, far off in the distance, seeing something well beyond human perception.

"Dean, I…"

"I know."

He got up and went to hug Cas again, silently hoping as he did that it wouldn't be for the last time. At the last moment, Cas caught his jaw in one gentle hand, turned it into a kiss that left Dean breathless with want.

"Cas, you can't just…"

Cas pressed a finger to Dean's lips. "A promise," he said, his eyes fixed on Dean's. "I will return to you, when it is safe."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Dean's lips tingling and wanting more.


	15. The Man Who Cared Too Much (Cas & Dean)

_Written for challenge #120: Midnight._

* * *

"_She'll be dead by midnight!"_

He still believes I was involved, and that realisation cuts me to the quick, as if he has stabbed me with my own blade. I cannot even bear to look at him, to see the accusation in his eyes. How can he possibly think that I could do anything that would cause him distress? Lisa and Ben have given him a sense of normalcy that I never could, and because of that, I still believe I chose the right course of action in not asking for his help the day I truly needed it. I could not, in all good conscience, pull him back into the hunting life after he had given everything to it. Crowley is a treacherous partner, but at least I felt no qualms about using him to ensure the survival of a free Heaven, to prevent the Apocalypse being restarted.

But now that alliance has led me here, to the bedside of the woman Dean loves; a woman dying because of me, because I chose a shortcut to help me stand up to my brother. I cannot let her die – even if she were not Dean's lover, she does not deserve to die because of mistakes I have made. Her son does not deserve that.

And I selfishly hope that in healing Lisa, Dean may begin to forgive me for my perceived crimes; may begin to accept the course I have chosen and am now compelled to complete to save everyone.


	16. Sensation (Destiel) - M-rated

_Written for challenge #122: 'Flavour'._

_**Warning: mature content.**_

* * *

There was a lot Castiel missed in his life. He missed the feel of the wind rushing through his feathers as he flew effortlessly anywhere he wanted to be. He missed the acuity of vision, particularly at night. He missed being able to hear if his friends were in trouble when he was half a world away. He missed being able to smell any health issues they might have and fix them before they caused any trouble.

He did not miss his sense of taste. Flavour, as a human, was a sensation; a riot of sweet and sharp and creamy and salty. The contrasts between flavours, the ability to taste as his friends tasted, was his favourite thing about what he had become. His first few weeks of being human had been fraught with trials, not least of which was working out what his taste buds liked and did not like. He liked meat but did not care for fish. He liked strawberries but not bananas. He loved PB&amp;J. But the thing he came to crave most of all was the flavour of Dean. Dean's mouth was normally sweet with fruit and pastry, sometimes bitter from coffee, occasionally sharp from alcohol. His skin was salty and earthy after a day's hunt, and there was miles and miles of it to taste: Cas could take his time savouring it. And the very welcome bitterness on Cas' tongue, just as Dean went all lax under him, was his favourite flavour of all.


	17. On Curiosities and Crossroads Deals

_Written for challenge #130: Identity._

* * *

"I got to know..." Dean eyeballed his drinking partner, checking for a reaction. "Why the hell'd you sell your soul for something as stupid as that?"

Crowley set his cocktail down primly and gave Dean a level stare.

"Double digits," was all he said. It was the same story he had given Bobby all those years ago.

"I don't buy it," Dean said.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Okay, so it wasn't exactly double digits, then," he admitted. "But I made sure my contract was well worded."

Dean frowned, thinking it over. Did Crowley mean exactly what Dean thought he meant? The reason he had asked in the first place?

Crowley sighed. "Those black eyes did nothing for your brain power, Squirrel: I signed for _me_, not my body."

Yep, Crowley definitely meant what Dean thought he meant.

"So your meat-suit, uh, 'benefits' when you move in?"

"Naturally.

"... you possessed Sam..."


	18. Baking (kind of pre-Destiel)

_Written for challenge #131: Cake on fan_flashworks, and for Cas Day._

* * *

Sam frowned from his vantage point at the door of the kitchen, watching Dean gather everything together for his latest endeavour.

"Cake would be more traditional," he pointed out, not for the first time. Not that he was sure Dean knew how to make cake.

Dean gave him a filthy look. "Cas prefers pie."

Sam rolled his eyes: he knew damn well that Cas pretended to like pie because that was what Dean liked, and in point of fact, didn't really enjoy either cake _or_ pie. But Dean wouldn't hear any objections, no matter how grounded in actual fact they were.

And, as they always said, it was the thought that counts; and if Dean wanted to do something to celebrate Castiel's 'birthday', do something _thoughtful_ for the angel, then he knew that Cas would appreciate it. Sam wondered whether this would finally be it – be the moment that Dean and Cas pulled their heads out of their respective asses and _did_ something about their relationship. He sincerely hoped so, but knew that, in all likelihood, Dean would laugh off the tender moment and Cas would once again be all puzzled by Dean's behaviour.

But a guy could hope, right?


	19. Fortune Favours the Brave (Destiel)

_Written for challenge # 142: Fortune_

* * *

"Why must you always question good fortune?"

Cas sounded pissed. Why did Cas sound pissed? It wasn't like Cas didn't know damn well that good things just didn't happen to the Winchesters. All three of them had so much shit thrown at them it was a miracle they were still alive. (Actually, it was several miracles, performed by demons and angels and, if Cas was to be believed, God himself, and Dean was still waiting for some of them to come back and bite them in the ass.)

"The world is not out to get you, Dean," Cas continued, still scowling in that way he had that made Dean feel like a child. "The world itself, luck itself, does not work that way. The misfortunes you have suffered so far have been orchestrated by beings more powerful than yourself, but good things can and do still happen."

That didn't sound right. Good things happened to other people, not to him.

"You humans have a saying: 'Don't look a gift horse in the mouth'."

Dean really wished he knew where Cas was going with this, because he was making less and less sense.

"Stop questioning why I am here, or when I am going to leave. Stop looking my presence in your life in the mouth. I am here because there is nowhere in the universe I would rather be than by your side. I will not leave your side for as long as you will have me."

Cas couldn't be saying what Dean through he was saying. Could he? They were friends. Cas wasn't even human, didn't experience the world like Dean did. He wasn't into sex and romance and all the sappy shit that generally came with being human.

Suddenly, Cas was in his space, reaching out and touching his face reverently. His thumb stroked gently over Dean's mouth, and he smiled his tiny little, secret smile.

"I am here, Dean. With you. Always."

Dean wanted so much to believe that Cas knew exactly what he was doing, what his gesture meant and what that smile and those eyes were doing to Dean. What Cas' mere presence did to Dean. There was one way to be sure. After all, fortune favours the brave, right?


End file.
